We had trekked some 13 kilometres down the village of Rajmachi. A good 6-7 kms still remained, but what remained little was the energy. Like nomads, we looked at the sun for support, when Abhishek declared, ‘ the sun is up there for at least an hour and half. We must try to hit the civilization (read Lonavala) by that time. From there we can get some means of transport. ’ Hardly any consolation for the weary souls.
Barely 5 minutes had passed, when someone called from behind ‘ Look back, it’s a lorry coming our
way !’
And then there was a sudden spate of uncontrollable excitement.
Woo hoo! ………Will they give us a lift? ……… Of course, why not! ……… Let’s ask them. ………They agreed ……… oh wow………amazing man………nothing could have completed our trip so brilliantly……… how do we get in ………use the wheels……… jump in ………this is crazy ………hang on tight ……!!
.
.
After having scanned the Google map of Maharashtra for over ten days, I thought I was ready to write my own book of weekend getaways, a plagiarized concoction of the content on numerous such sites. But at the end of it I was a little more than flummoxed by the choices put forward by the third largest state of India. It was then that a casual chat resulted in a trek we all would remember for long.
What made the trip interesting was the group of six, in which only two knew each other. We all met at Karjat station early in the morning with the smell of fresh vada pavs & dew for the backdrop and soon forgot the names rattled off during introduction, as we began by exploring the by lanes of Karjat, in search of an auto.
The sleepy town was only a precursor to what lay ahead. Quietly welcoming the sun was the mist covered lake beholding the reflection of the splendor above. We crossed the school, houses and community centers to reach the make-shift auto-stand next to the bridge. From there we reached the village at the base of the hill. The ride was marked with rustic views as if freshly painted on a canvas.
These village homes doubled as base camps and ‘hotels’ for wanderers like us, feeding us with hot poha, ‘extra nimboo’ and tea for a nominal amount, as scores of chickens wandered about; just what we required to get us going for the trek ahead.
The path unfolded slowly and steadily with varying flora all around us. It was Pooja and my first experience with photographers cum trekkers. Very soon we added words like aperture, shutter speed, macros etc to our vocabulary with renewed respect as they discussed various perspectives and other jargons! So while they clicked we would trek a little ahead to rest a little more waiting for them to join. In fact after every fifteen minutes of trek we would come across a micro stream or a water fall, with a different set of flora & fauna inviting us to take a break.
Had it not been for our ancestors who had painted the directions on the rocks and the locals who frequented the dense forest to get firewood, we would have most optimistically ended up on some other hilltop.
Our next major stop was ''Kondane caves''. Carved out of the igneous Deccan rocks, these Buddhist caves dating back to 5 th or 6 th century are also perfect for waterfall rappelling. While the guys enjoyed the waterfall sans rappelling, we sat back for some photo session. We looked at our watches. It was still 11 30am. Gosh! And it seemed as if we were trekking since ages.
Beyond this point the path surprised us. Steep slopes, strong roots erupting out of ground together with the rocks, just what I had imagined and may be what Pooja had not imagined! I had heard Rajmachi is meant for experienced trekkers and now I could feel it myself. The thrill was palpable. Nikhil (thin as the cigarette he smoked after every two hours) lead us all through out with the same gusto, while Abhishek, Arghya and Nil trudged back clicking pictures & keeping the spirit of the trek alive. With the bag growing heavier with every step, and no network to reach out to some guide for directions they pulled it through well!
After covering around three fourth of the distance, we sat down for brunch. Cake, snickers, cheese cubes and water. While we searched for something to cut the cake (for some reason the guys decided that girls can do it better), Arghya and Abhishek recounted distasteful stories of how to survive in the wild eating earthworms and other stuff. Finally a broken set square (revise your geometry!) emerged from my bag to our rescue.
On the way ahead, we realized the importance of a pocket local language dictionary to ask and understand directions on a trek, after losing our way thrice. We even tried to follow a village milkman but he proved way too nimble for our overworked lungs. The silence of the woods allowed us to use our own voice for overhead communication
Nikhil still leading had the same solemn look on his face, no sign of exhaustion. Abhishek, Nil and Arghya were happily clicking their way up, the strain could not dampen their spirits. Pooja, with a pulled nerve had already disowned me and set herself to a comfortable pace, careful not to overwork the ligaments. The end was nowhere in sight and I had almost begun to lose hope, when Nikhil and Arghya spotted the village.
‘ Guys, we are there…… That’s the village …… We can see it …… Finally we have reached …… Yu huuu’
Soon, we were on the top of a plateau, where the Rajmachi village with a little over fifteen huts, thrived. A walk through the fields warmed up the sagging souls. Abhishek, the only one in our group who knew a little Marathi, got us to the right place. Small clean huts plastered with cement and mud with all basic amenities. No superfluous piece of furniture or showpiece. Lunch time folks!! Bhakri, dal, minced cabbage and rice vanished quickly from our plates.
The rural development corporation had constructed two pukka huts for trekkers. Surrounded by a blooming garden, it had raised platform for seating in the front courtyard. We spread mats and the bed sheets over them and settled down to tend the aching nerves. But not our photographers! With the sun about to set they had work ready for them all around.
‘Abhishek, h ow do we ask for washroom, can you ask someone’
‘Bhau sulabh kuthe aahe’, he tried.
The villager bore a blank expression as if we just read a few lines from Shakespeare.
‘ Try some other word for washroom na’. After few trials, we asked, ‘ Bathroom?’
He smiled .. ‘oo bathroom!’. We smiled too … now bathroom is a marathi word.
Some more conversation transpired in Marathi. ‘ He is asking what you want for evening snacks. ’ Abhishek offered. Not wanting to trouble them any more we settled for onion bhajiyaas and masala tea.
An hour of nap or rather simply lying down in peace had a calming effect. In some time our coordinator arrived with snacks and firewood! ‘ Wow, we are going to have a bon fire! Great!’
Quickly the woods were lit up using cow dung cakes and kerosene. The hot tea stirred the cells inside.
After dinner (we had non-veg option), we lazed around the fire again till late night! The clouds had hidden the starlit sky. So while our photographers waited for the moon to materialize, Arghya posed... Sitting, standing and even flat on the ground, with and without cigarette and sometimes glowing logs of woods to all of which Abhishek obliged.
Sitting on the platform under the tree around the bonfire discussing the trek that lay before us tomorrow reminded me of the travelers of the early. With our eyes adjusted to the fire, the surrounding area was at best a silhouetted sketch. But with former and present IT engineers around, the conversation about keeping the fire on with a newspaper fan soon had jargons like schedule slippage, deadlines, managers, QA, outsourcing, knowledge transition, team effort etc courtesy Indranil.
Only after the last straw was reduced to ashes, we wound our conversations, iphones and limbs and hit the mats. We had thoroughly enjoyed one of the longest days of our lives. In a single day we had done so much,
when sitting in our cubicles time just flies by. Living for a year on these hills would get you the feeling of living for at least five years. You have all the time in the world to enjoy yourself, your presence on this planet, without being influenced by others.
The night was chilly. And the only piece of shawl Pooja and I had each for ourselves did little to save us. I have no idea how the guys managed! But next morning, while I struggled with my shawl, I could see Abhishek all set to get the rising sun through his lenses.
Next morning, after another breakfast of poha and tea, we started our photography cum trek mission. On the way we saw semi-natural caves filled with water. The Shiv temple was half way on the trek. A mix of present endeavor and ancient remains against the rocky background seemed straight from the page of a wanderer’s diary. It even had a small orchard. The Rajmachi fort and peak were right up there, and the climb seemed too challenging.
Pooja rightly decided to return back as a pulled nerve had made her trek very uncomfortable. The rest of us marched ahead. In fifteen minutes we reached the fort periphery or rather the remains of it. Stone water tanks were present around it for purposes left to our imagination. Nikhil gave out a call which echoed in the mountains and in no time, other groups at various heights joined him. As for Arghya and Indranil, they posed!
What seemed to be a treacherous trek was completed without much pangs and in around forty minutes we were at the Rajmachi peak. One of my life’s first. Feelings, beyond words. Only yesterday, it looked so difficult, but today we were there. The village looked so small and we could actually count the huts there. Nikhil managed to spot a lake across two mountains.
But the whole feeling was marred for some time by a stray incident. Minutes after we had settled to the top, a group of young boys joined us. And in the duration same as that for headlines in any news channel, they climbed up the flagpole and tied their flag higher up, bursted crackers and opened few pet bottles of Thumbsup and Coke to mark their victory.
When they left, the peak was left with bits of paper, plastic and of course the sound of crackers echoing in the valley. I had seen a live example of how callous man could be towards environment and still raise voice against others for spoiling it. If Rajmachi peak could be soiled so easily, I shuddered to think what must be left out of Mt Everest.
The gloom was lost when Nikhil scrambled the same pole and we lend him a hanky to tie up there. Soon all of us except Abhishek took turns to try out the same. One part of our journey was now complete. The other half awaited us. Till now I hadn’t told Pooja that her ‘Rajmaland’ trek (that is what was left of the name after I had first called her up to tell the last minute change in plan) is meant for experienced trekkers. We trekked down to the village from a slightly different route, and landed just before the small ‘hotel’ run by a local woman selling toffees, biscuits and serving ‘ nimboo pani’, ‘kokam sherbet’ etc .
In the hut we met Pooja, looking invigorated apparently by the rest and sleep she caught upon. After lunch we went towards the end of the village hoping to find the lake we had spotted form the top. But we had to abandon our search after Nil’s reconnaissance, and Pooja’s SWOT analysis showed us no hope!
It was now time to pack our bags and say good bye to the hospitality we had enjoyed since yesterday. The route taken to trek down was easier but longer one and so it proved itself to be. Two of the cameras had run out of battery, but Abhishek continued with his run! A break of bourbons, banana chips, Chiclets and water got us going. But we really thought we needed glucose at this point of time.
From somewhere, Nil and I had the extra energy to go off track & explore what seemed to be an old rock water reservoir while Pooja stared at the implausible! The Sahayadri Range was before us in full view. The mountains imposing around us like some fort wall seemed to shield itself from the gatecrashers like us. The dam which the villagers had mentioned as a landmark was now in sight.
‘ But where is the transport they had referred to ? ‘, I despaired.
‘Let me go a little ahead and check’ , Nil offered.
We had trekked some 13 kilometres down the village of Rajmachi. A good 6-7 kms still remained, but what remained little was the energy. .. :) ... continued from the top ...
Barely 5 minutes had passed, when someone called from behind ‘ Look back, it’s a lorry coming our
way !’
And then there was a sudden spate of uncontrollable excitement.
Woo hoo! ………Will they give us a lift? ……… Of course, why not! ……… Let’s ask them. ………They agreed ……… oh wow………amazing man………nothing could have completed our trip so brilliantly……… how do we get in ………use the wheels……… jump in ………this is crazy ………hang on tight ……!!
.
.
After having scanned the Google map of Maharashtra for over ten days, I thought I was ready to write my own book of weekend getaways, a plagiarized concoction of the content on numerous such sites. But at the end of it I was a little more than flummoxed by the choices put forward by the third largest state of India. It was then that a casual chat resulted in a trek we all would remember for long.
What made the trip interesting was the group of six, in which only two knew each other. We all met at Karjat station early in the morning with the smell of fresh vada pavs & dew for the backdrop and soon forgot the names rattled off during introduction, as we began by exploring the by lanes of Karjat, in search of an auto.
The sleepy town was only a precursor to what lay ahead. Quietly welcoming the sun was the mist covered lake beholding the reflection of the splendor above. We crossed the school, houses and community centers to reach the make-shift auto-stand next to the bridge. From there we reached the village at the base of the hill. The ride was marked with rustic views as if freshly painted on a canvas.
These village homes doubled as base camps and ‘hotels’ for wanderers like us, feeding us with hot poha, ‘extra nimboo’ and tea for a nominal amount, as scores of chickens wandered about; just what we required to get us going for the trek ahead.
The path unfolded slowly and steadily with varying flora all around us. It was Pooja and my first experience with photographers cum trekkers. Very soon we added words like aperture, shutter speed, macros etc to our vocabulary with renewed respect as they discussed various perspectives and other jargons! So while they clicked we would trek a little ahead to rest a little more waiting for them to join. In fact after every fifteen minutes of trek we would come across a micro stream or a water fall, with a different set of flora & fauna inviting us to take a break.
Had it not been for our ancestors who had painted the directions on the rocks and the locals who frequented the dense forest to get firewood, we would have most optimistically ended up on some other hilltop.
Our next major stop was ''Kondane caves''. Carved out of the igneous Deccan rocks, these Buddhist caves dating back to 5 th or 6 th century are also perfect for waterfall rappelling. While the guys enjoyed the waterfall sans rappelling, we sat back for some photo session. We looked at our watches. It was still 11 30am. Gosh! And it seemed as if we were trekking since ages.
Beyond this point the path surprised us. Steep slopes, strong roots erupting out of ground together with the rocks, just what I had imagined and may be what Pooja had not imagined! I had heard Rajmachi is meant for experienced trekkers and now I could feel it myself. The thrill was palpable. Nikhil (thin as the cigarette he smoked after every two hours) lead us all through out with the same gusto, while Abhishek, Arghya and Nil trudged back clicking pictures & keeping the spirit of the trek alive. With the bag growing heavier with every step, and no network to reach out to some guide for directions they pulled it through well!
After covering around three fourth of the distance, we sat down for brunch. Cake, snickers, cheese cubes and water. While we searched for something to cut the cake (for some reason the guys decided that girls can do it better), Arghya and Abhishek recounted distasteful stories of how to survive in the wild eating earthworms and other stuff. Finally a broken set square (revise your geometry!) emerged from my bag to our rescue.
On the way ahead, we realized the importance of a pocket local language dictionary to ask and understand directions on a trek, after losing our way thrice. We even tried to follow a village milkman but he proved way too nimble for our overworked lungs. The silence of the woods allowed us to use our own voice for overhead communication
Nikhil still leading had the same solemn look on his face, no sign of exhaustion. Abhishek, Nil and Arghya were happily clicking their way up, the strain could not dampen their spirits. Pooja, with a pulled nerve had already disowned me and set herself to a comfortable pace, careful not to overwork the ligaments. The end was nowhere in sight and I had almost begun to lose hope, when Nikhil and Arghya spotted the village.
‘ Guys, we are there…… That’s the village …… We can see it …… Finally we have reached …… Yu huuu’
Soon, we were on the top of a plateau, where the Rajmachi village with a little over fifteen huts, thrived. A walk through the fields warmed up the sagging souls. Abhishek, the only one in our group who knew a little Marathi, got us to the right place. Small clean huts plastered with cement and mud with all basic amenities. No superfluous piece of furniture or showpiece. Lunch time folks!! Bhakri, dal, minced cabbage and rice vanished quickly from our plates.
The rural development corporation had constructed two pukka huts for trekkers. Surrounded by a blooming garden, it had raised platform for seating in the front courtyard. We spread mats and the bed sheets over them and settled down to tend the aching nerves. But not our photographers! With the sun about to set they had work ready for them all around.
‘Abhishek, h ow do we ask for washroom, can you ask someone’
‘Bhau sulabh kuthe aahe’, he tried.
The villager bore a blank expression as if we just read a few lines from Shakespeare.
‘ Try some other word for washroom na’. After few trials, we asked, ‘ Bathroom?’
He smiled .. ‘oo bathroom!’. We smiled too … now bathroom is a marathi word.
Some more conversation transpired in Marathi. ‘ He is asking what you want for evening snacks. ’ Abhishek offered. Not wanting to trouble them any more we settled for onion bhajiyaas and masala tea.
An hour of nap or rather simply lying down in peace had a calming effect. In some time our coordinator arrived with snacks and firewood! ‘ Wow, we are going to have a bon fire! Great!’
Quickly the woods were lit up using cow dung cakes and kerosene. The hot tea stirred the cells inside.
After dinner (we had non-veg option), we lazed around the fire again till late night! The clouds had hidden the starlit sky. So while our photographers waited for the moon to materialize, Arghya posed... Sitting, standing and even flat on the ground, with and without cigarette and sometimes glowing logs of woods to all of which Abhishek obliged.
Sitting on the platform under the tree around the bonfire discussing the trek that lay before us tomorrow reminded me of the travelers of the early. With our eyes adjusted to the fire, the surrounding area was at best a silhouetted sketch. But with former and present IT engineers around, the conversation about keeping the fire on with a newspaper fan soon had jargons like schedule slippage, deadlines, managers, QA, outsourcing, knowledge transition, team effort etc courtesy Indranil.
Only after the last straw was reduced to ashes, we wound our conversations, iphones and limbs and hit the mats. We had thoroughly enjoyed one of the longest days of our lives. In a single day we had done so much,
when sitting in our cubicles time just flies by. Living for a year on these hills would get you the feeling of living for at least five years. You have all the time in the world to enjoy yourself, your presence on this planet, without being influenced by others.
The night was chilly. And the only piece of shawl Pooja and I had each for ourselves did little to save us. I have no idea how the guys managed! But next morning, while I struggled with my shawl, I could see Abhishek all set to get the rising sun through his lenses.
Next morning, after another breakfast of poha and tea, we started our photography cum trek mission. On the way we saw semi-natural caves filled with water. The Shiv temple was half way on the trek. A mix of present endeavor and ancient remains against the rocky background seemed straight from the page of a wanderer’s diary. It even had a small orchard. The Rajmachi fort and peak were right up there, and the climb seemed too challenging.
Pooja rightly decided to return back as a pulled nerve had made her trek very uncomfortable. The rest of us marched ahead. In fifteen minutes we reached the fort periphery or rather the remains of it. Stone water tanks were present around it for purposes left to our imagination. Nikhil gave out a call which echoed in the mountains and in no time, other groups at various heights joined him. As for Arghya and Indranil, they posed!
What seemed to be a treacherous trek was completed without much pangs and in around forty minutes we were at the Rajmachi peak. One of my life’s first. Feelings, beyond words. Only yesterday, it looked so difficult, but today we were there. The village looked so small and we could actually count the huts there. Nikhil managed to spot a lake across two mountains.
But the whole feeling was marred for some time by a stray incident. Minutes after we had settled to the top, a group of young boys joined us. And in the duration same as that for headlines in any news channel, they climbed up the flagpole and tied their flag higher up, bursted crackers and opened few pet bottles of Thumbsup and Coke to mark their victory.
When they left, the peak was left with bits of paper, plastic and of course the sound of crackers echoing in the valley. I had seen a live example of how callous man could be towards environment and still raise voice against others for spoiling it. If Rajmachi peak could be soiled so easily, I shuddered to think what must be left out of Mt Everest.
The gloom was lost when Nikhil scrambled the same pole and we lend him a hanky to tie up there. Soon all of us except Abhishek took turns to try out the same. One part of our journey was now complete. The other half awaited us. Till now I hadn’t told Pooja that her ‘Rajmaland’ trek (that is what was left of the name after I had first called her up to tell the last minute change in plan) is meant for experienced trekkers. We trekked down to the village from a slightly different route, and landed just before the small ‘hotel’ run by a local woman selling toffees, biscuits and serving ‘ nimboo pani’, ‘kokam sherbet’ etc .
In the hut we met Pooja, looking invigorated apparently by the rest and sleep she caught upon. After lunch we went towards the end of the village hoping to find the lake we had spotted form the top. But we had to abandon our search after Nil’s reconnaissance, and Pooja’s SWOT analysis showed us no hope!
It was now time to pack our bags and say good bye to the hospitality we had enjoyed since yesterday. The route taken to trek down was easier but longer one and so it proved itself to be. Two of the cameras had run out of battery, but Abhishek continued with his run! A break of bourbons, banana chips, Chiclets and water got us going. But we really thought we needed glucose at this point of time.
From somewhere, Nil and I had the extra energy to go off track & explore what seemed to be an old rock water reservoir while Pooja stared at the implausible! The Sahayadri Range was before us in full view. The mountains imposing around us like some fort wall seemed to shield itself from the gatecrashers like us. The dam which the villagers had mentioned as a landmark was now in sight.
‘ But where is the transport they had referred to ? ‘, I despaired.
‘Let me go a little ahead and check’ , Nil offered.
We had trekked some 13 kilometres down the village of Rajmachi. A good 6-7 kms still remained, but what remained little was the energy. ..
4 comments:
damn missed the trip:(...
but thanks a lot for showing me almost real video of whole of the trip.
Now feeling part of it:)
Lady...
we can write a book on this.... I'll give illustrations.... after I publish my photoblog, u can introduce the blog link into urs....
Madamme...ur writeup is too good...waiting to c ur book in sm CROSSWORDS or else...u hv a gr8 vocabulary... nd d pics dt hv come up thru ur words r at par wit d ones clicked by Abhishek thru his lens...
u rock..
nd cheers fr ur company in d trip..
Woo woo, wait a minute..I never thought a gal who can manage such a hefty trek and use those words so uniquely ..Deadly combination..
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